If the Fates Allow
by Bondopoulos
Summary: Veronica's cute new neighbor is a total jackass. But what if that jackass turned out to be everything she never knew she always wanted. Needless to say, no LoVe at first sight. Veronica Mars holiday AU, in three acts, set in NYC. Written for kmd0107 for the VMHQ Holiday Fic Grab Bag Prompt #66 (the parenthesis part): a bunch of carolers show up at LoVe's door.
1. December 23

Chapter 1: December 23rd

Veronica jumped when a door slammed from out in the hall.

"Well, crap," she murmured, "he's home." Veronica took a deep cleansing breath, deciding not to let her new neighbor bother her. She was one glass of red wine in and wearing her comfiest Lululemon yoga pants and her favorite purple NYU hoodie. Her toes were curled under her and she had a pile of trashy magazines next to her on the couch. It was Friday night of a long weekend—Christmas weekend—and she had nowhere to be in the morning. Nothing could ruin this moment; not even her jackass new neighbor. The fact that she hadn't had more than a moment's peace since he'd moved in last week was inconsequential. Tonight was her night; she could feel it. Or so she'd hoped.

Footsteps stalked across the apartment next door that she could hear clearly through the thin walls.

Veronica took another sip of wine and closed her eyes for a moment. She missed little old Ethel, who had lived in 4C ever since Veronica had moved in five years ago. Ethel had been cute, and quiet…she'd baked cookies.

Still, Veronica had been hopeful when she'd heard that a cute new guy was moving in next door, giddy even. A little eye candy would spruce up the old walls of this outdated apartment building. Well, that's what she'd thought at the time. Now…well, now things had changed. She hadn't even caught a glimpse of the guy, but he'd already pissed her off more times than she could count.

She waited for the blare of classic rock or some crappy indie, garage band that no one but him had ever even heard of, but it didn't come.

Veronica turned her head toward her companion. "Wait, Indy, do you hear that?"

The pit bull lying on the other end of the couch opened one eye to look at her but didn't budge.

"That, my friend, is the sound of silence," Veronica whispered. Sighing, she sank a little deeper into the couch. "Finally."

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time. We're simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

"No!" Veronica announced, tossing the magazine aside.

The party's on. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough.

One thing was right—she sure as hell had had enough.

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't afford to move.

"Indy," she huffed, "he's graduated from shitty rock to Christmas music." And shitty Christmas music at that. "Ugh!" One didn't blare music with walls this thin; it was just about common courtesy.

Veronica thought of the long weekend ahead of her. The nice, long quiet weekend she'd planned did not include Paul McCartney.

Veronica popped up to sitting and pulled herself to her feet. She stalked to the door, where she paused for a moment, glancing over at Indy and silently calculating whether or not she'd need backup. Taking a pitbull to yell at one's neighbor definitely made a statement. The pooch was now sitting up and alert, but he didn't look eager to follow her. Lazy dog, she thought affectionately. In the spirit of the season, she decided to take a less aggressive approach.

Leaving her door ajar so that she could make a hasty retreat if necessary, Veronica walked purposefully down the hall to 4C. Setting her jaw, she raised her arm and knocked. No answer. Of course he couldn't hear her over all that racket. She knocked again, harder.

The music silenced, and Veronica wondered if he'd gotten the point without the confrontation. Appeased, she turned to make her way back to her apartment when the door of 4C swung open.

She stopped in her tracks and turned. Expecting to see a tattooed, pierced menace with horns and claws, Veronica was surprised to see warm brown eyes instead. He had a nice body—his shoulders were broad and his maroon henley pulled a little across his muscled chest. Veronica's heart was beating wildly within her own chest. Wow, he really was cute. Less Devil-like and more…

"Oh, a tiny blonde. I think you've got the wrong place…I didn't order an elf for Christmas, but I suppose I'll manage to find something to do with you."

"Elf?" she scoffed.

He waggled his eyebrows and set a hand on his chest. "Maybe the Ghost of Christmas future?"

Sarcasm oozed from his lop-sided, snarky mouth. Suddenly her mission in coming here became all too clear. Looks could be deceiving; she of all people knew that. Veronica opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"Look if you're selling something, I'm afraid that—"

Veronica felt her blood boil. The audacity! "It's past eleven o'clock. What the hell would I be selling?"

His lips smirked again, wider this time. If Veronica didn't know better, she'd almost think he looked…pleased.

"Not selling anything?" Jackass took a long look up and down her, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. The smirk never faltered. Veronica willed herself not to become self-conscious under his scrutiny. "You can't be a singing elf with a salacious tune, because…no costume." He paused for a moment once again, scratching his chin in mock deep thought, and Veronica felt her blood boil. "Well, then I'll take the bait. What can I do for you this evening?"

"You can turn your music down so that the rest of the building can sleep…or read…or whatever other peaceful activity normal people do in the evening. That's what you can do for me!" Jackass, she added silently.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Oh, you're the neighbor," he said, tapping the side of his temple as if jogging a memory. "I've been warned about you. Perky, blonde private detective with a scary dog." Jackass put both arms on the molding of the door and leaned toward her. "I didn't expect you to be so…" he released his arms and wiggled his fingers before him as if searching for a word… "miniature?"

Veronica didn't ever remember a time when she had hated someone so completely on first sight—or, if she were being truthful, on first hear. And she was from Neptune, California, so that was saying something. She forced herself to rein in her temper.

She didn't have to like him, but she did have to live next to him. "Yes…well, my size isn't the issue here. Your noise level is: slamming doors when you come and go, music blaring at all hours. And now Christmas music!"

"Oh, you just hate Christmas! Grinch!" he rejoined. "It's Christmas Eve! You're trying to steal my Christmas."

"It's Christmas Eve eve," she returned crisply.

That brightened him. His eyes widened as though all of the world's knowledge was now suddenly his. "Fine, it's the antepenultimate of Christmas!" he announced. "And you're the Grinch who stole it."

What did vocabulary have to do with anything? He was infuriating! "And I'm not a Grinch! Some of us would like to choose our own listening material. It's only polite to respect—"

He poked a finger accusingly at her. "You are the Grinch, here to take my Who-pudding and my roast beast."

Veronica willed herself not to smile. She refused to be mollified with Dr. Seuss quotes by a (admittedly cute, but that was beside the point) smirking jackass.

"Every party has a pooper—" he began.

"This isn't a party," she said, indicating the empty apartment behind him. Oddly clean for a guy who just moved in, she acknowledged, but then shook it out of her head and turned her attention back to him. "This is one asshole every night the one week he's lived here."

He just laughed, which made her angrier.

"You're really not going to turn it down?" she asked, incredulous.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'P'.

Veronica laughed despite herself, a mirthless chuckle that escaped her merely because it was that or punch him in the face, and she didn't want to spend Christmas weekend in jail—though it was surely quieter than her apartment at the moment.

Veronica clenched her hands into a fist but kept them by her side. "Fine, I'll speak to Eli, the super, when he comes back after Christmas."

"Excellent. He's my family's housekeeper's grandson. I'll text him and tell him to expect your visit. We're good friends, he and I," Jackass replied.

Fabulous! She opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off, yet again.

"Merry Christmas, Grinch," Jackass singsonged as he stepped backward into his apartment and swung the door shut in her face.

"Same to you," she called out in her Amber voice. "Now I'm going to go back to my apartment and shut the door like a civilized human being."

The only response from the other side of the door was the sound of Paul McCartney's voice, even louder this time.

Veronica walked back to her apartment and shut the door quietly even though Jackass wouldn't hear it. It was the principal of the thing. Besides she didn't need to get mad now—no, she'd get even. She'd already begun mentally making a list of ways she could hurt the man next door—without getting arrested—using only her bare hands.

She looked at Indy, still sitting on the couch where she'd left him. "Thanks a lot for the support, pal. Next time I'm getting the yappy chihuahua," she grumbled at him.


	2. December 25

December 25th

Veronica was pleasantly surprised to find the apartment next door silent when she returned from taking Indy on his afternoon walk. It had remained silent ever since he'd mercifully turned off his music around one on Friday night/Saturday morning. She'd waited for the music to pump again last night, but it hadn't come. Jackass was home—at least he had been earlier. And yesterday. She knew that because she could hear him through the wall from time to time, but it wasn't the same loud noises as before.

Veronica had thought it was too good to last, but here it was Christmas night…

"Huh, Indy," she said to the dog as she wiped off his paws. "Maybe we will have a silent night after all."

She stepped across the threshold of her apartment and hung the little cloth she used for Indy's feet on a hook and then put the leash with it.

Indy quickly took his customary spot on the couch and looked up at her with sad eyes. She walked over and patted him lightly on the head. "I know, boy, it doesn't feel like Christmas without Dad," she consoled, lightly kissing the top of his large head and then thought about what she should do next.

She'd ordered two game hens from Whole Foods that she'd cooked to perfection, and the sweet potatoes were ready to come out of the oven. It was just like old times. But the food was the only thing she'd done like normal. She just hadn't had it in her to decorate this year; no Padres ornaments gracing the tree…no embarrassment about popsicle stick reindeer that she'd made when she was little. No tree at all.

Veronica made her way into the little galley kitchen and adjusted the temperature of the oven. It was too quiet. She couldn't believe it, but she actually wished there was music on next door so that she could be distracted from her thoughts. She grabbed the TV remote and flipped through channels before landing on While You Were Sleeping. Excellent. A movie with a happy ending is just what she needed right now.

* * *

Veronica breathed in deeply as she opened the oven and the smell of Christmas cooking came wafting out at full force. It looked good, too. She grabbed a potholder from a nearby drawer and pulled the roasting pan out of the oven and then the potatoes too. It was all crisped to perfection. If there was anything she could cook well, it was Christmas dinner.

Veronica took her time making herself up a plate. She hadn't wanted to set her table for one, so she'd decided that she would eat in front of the TV, and was still debating watching The Year Without Santa Claus. She wanted one nostalgic tradition in place, but she didn't know if she could do it. Veronica was sure she'd cry, but maybe that way she would feel closer to her dad. She still had a few minutes to decide.

She'd just set down a bowl for Indy when there was a knock at the door. Veronica, surprised, looked at the clock and then back to the door. Everyone she knew in the city was out of town for Christmas.

Veronica considered ignoring whomever it was, but then they knocked again. "Coming," she called out as she made her way to the door.

When she pulled the door open, Veronica she was looking into the face of the last person in the world she'd expected to grace her doorstep that evening. She instantly felt angsty. How dare _he_ intrude on her night.

Jackass held a box in one hand, and the other hand was stuffed awkwardly in his pocket. He wore jeans and a shirt like Friday night, but something was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until he spoke.

"Merry Christmas," he said simply, a shy smile on his face.

What, no quip? Was this the same Jackass?

She really didn't have time for this, and he was lucky she hadn't had enough time to brainstorm any interesting ways to maim him yet. "Look," she began, "If you're selling something—"

Veronica didn't have a chance to finish because Indy came barreling through the apartment. He swept past her and into the hallway to greet their visitor.

Traitor! She looked down that the dog nuzzling her neighbor's pants, begging for attention. Veronica bent down and looked Indy in the eye. "Chihuahua," she whispered warningly.

Indy's response was immediate. He threw her a brief glance before slinking past her back into the apartment and jumping onto the couch. He turned and gave her a droopy, sad look before curling up on his end of the sofa.

Veronica chuckled a moment and then turned her attention back to the man standing at her door, not yet sure what she was going to do about him.

"I come bearing pie." He lifted the box enticingly. "You could at least let me in."

Veronica chewed the inside of her lip, unconvinced. "What kind of pie?"

"Pecan," he said.

Her favorite! She groaned inwardly, still determined not to like him.

"Listen, about Friday night…" he began, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not holding the box. Suddenly he was looking everywhere but at her eyes. "I think I…well, I think _I_ was the Grinch…so, truce?"

Veronica took pity on him. She wasn't immune to obnoxious outbursts from time to time. And he had pie.

"Just because it's Christmas," she sighed as she stepped aside and motioned for him to enter the apartment. When he gave her a genuine smile, she decided to play nice. "Thanks for turning the music down."

"You're welcome," he said with a smile as he stepped around her and entered the apartment. Veronica took a moment to study him as he walked over to the kitchen and set the pie box down on the counter. He wasn't bad to look at from behind…and without his jackass smirk, he really was very handsome. "Something smells good," he said, taking in a dramatically long breath.

"Thanks," she responded tentatively, still unsure what to make of him. Veronica was surprised at the transformation from just forty-eight hours ago. She realized that she didn't even know his name. "I'm Veronica, by the way," she stated, holding out her hand.

He turned around to face her, his expression almost sheepish. "Yeah, I know," he nodded. "I, um…I talked to Weevil—Eli," he corrected. He took her hand but didn't shake it; he just held it, his eyes locked with hers. "I'm Logan."

"Logan," she confirmed with a nod and immediately felt silly. Much nicer name than Jackass. Eli knew far too much about her, and she suddenly felt even more self-conscious about what Eli might have shared. "You talked to Eli, huh? That sounds…ominous."

"Not really. His grandma's worked for my parents forever. My parents…well, they're both actors, so his grandmother practically raised me."

Veronica fought the urge to facepalm when she realized just who was standing in front of her. Logan _Echolls_. Veronica had grown up watching Lynn Lester on General Hospital—back when Veronica had done such things with her own mother.

"So what are you doing here? I mean, isn't there some mansion in Bridgehampton that you should be decking the halls of about now?" she teased.

He shook his head, smirking again. But this time he wasn't smirking at her, he was smirking _with_ her—and she liked it.

"No?" Veronica tilted her head to the side and made a big show of pondering. "Water Mill…" she ventured.

"Southampton," he admitted with a wry grin and a shake of his head. He chuckled slightly. "The house is in Southampton."

"I knew it!" Veronica gloated, raising her fist in overexaggerated victory.

"But, alas, I'm here with you tonight instead." He raised his eyebrows at her and did an awkward hand-clap motion.

"So you are," Veronica agreed, still confused. He'd apologized and brought her pie. Now what?

Logan walked over to the couch and crouched in front of Indy. Wait, was he not leaving?

"Who's a man killer?" Logan affectionately asked the pup, reaching out to scratch behind one ear.

Why wasn't he leaving?

Indy gave Veronica a quick side-eye glance. Apparently deciding that the risk of excommunication was worth attention, he rolled fully onto his back, exposing his tummy for rubs.

"That _traitor_ is Indy," Veronica answered.

Indy's only response was two thumping flaps of his tail. Logan chuckled and scratched Indy's tummy until he found the dog's sweet spot.

Veronica eyed the nearly-empty wine rack in the corner, acutely in need of something to mellow her out. She should probably offer him something to drink since he was here and all. She wasn't used to playing hostess, and she'd put off buying good wine for tonight because who wanted to be a sad, solo-drinking cliché on Christmas? But now that she wasn't alone…

The thought brought her attention back to the food on the counter. She didn't want it to get cold. She was hungry, and Logan didn't appear to be leaving anytime soon. And then she was surprised at the realization that she didn't want him to leave. The thought of company...she'd prepared herself to be okay with spending the evening with only Indy, but now that the opportunity for companionship had presented itself, she could admit that she'd been lonely.

"Well, I was just about to eat dinner. Care to join me?" she asked him casually before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dinner?" he asked as if it wasn't seven o'clock in the evening of a major holiday.

Veronica felt herself blush crimson. Of course, he had somewhere else to be. He'd just been being nice by bringing pie. And that's when it happened—the ramble.

"No pressure. I mean, I'm used to making Christmas dinner for two, so I did...And I just thought since you were here and all…" she tried to stop the deluge, but words just kept streaming of their own accord. She wasn't even sure what was coming out at the moment "...since it's already cooked—" _shut up, Veronica_ "...the bones are too small for Indy…" _really, really, stop_ "...no one else..." Oh, god, it was just getting worse and worse. She forced her mouth to pause.

"So, basically since you can't feed the food to your dog, and it has to get eaten and no one else is here to do so I'm invited?" he summarized.

Veronica had to think for a moment. While that certainly hadn't been her intent, it was probably about the gist of what she'd said. _Crap_. "Essentially," she admitted.

"Well, in that case, I accept," he said, standing up straight.

"Really?" She inwardly groaned at the surprise she heard in her own voice. She'd been so sure he would refuse. Now that he hadn't, she regretted her hasty decision to let him interrupt her solitude. Logan must have sensed her hesitation.

"Unless it's too much trouble." Logan pointed a thumb toward his own apartment. "I can…"

Shame washed over her. She didn't know why she was wavering. She couldn't have it both ways—sulking alone _and_ having company at the same time wasn't an option. And there was no shame in allowing herself a little happiness during Christmas. It's what her dad would want.

"No trouble at all," she insisted, scurrying back to the kitchen to grab a placemat, plate, napkin and some utensils for them. Why did this guy make her feel so…much? If she wasn't screaming at him in the hallway, she was inviting him to eat her extra game hen. No doubt they'd argue and she'd kick him out before they got to his pie, anyway.

She rounded the corner, her arms full, and he immediately took the load from her. "You seem really into Christmas dinner," he commented as he set his own place. "My family always makes things so ornately overdone that it's not even—I dunno...special anymore." He paused for a moment, his mood darkening for a moment before he recovered. "This is...nice," he finished simply.

"Thanks," she responded. "Ever since high school, it was up to me to make Christmas dinner, so I kind of developed the knack of it. It's not too fancy, but it's good." She didn't want to get into discussing her family traditions.

Logan nodded, apparently needing no further explanation. That worried her. She'd already shared more than she usually did. Part of her wanted to know what Weevil had told him—the real reason he was here. She didn't dare ask him. Not yet at least.

"I don't need fancy," he responded quietly. Veronica watched as he took in the table. She remembered the candles that were unlit since she'd planned on eating on the couch and retrieved a match to light them. She had to admit that the table didn't look too shabby for a last minute set up.

"Do you have any wine?" he asked.

Veronica grimaced, she'd considered stopping by Wine Emporium on her way home from work yesterday, but hadn't. "No," she admitted. "I only have reds, and I don't think they'll pair well."

Logan surprised her by standing up and crossing the apartment. "I've got a Zinfandel that will be perfect. Be right back," he called out over his shoulder, flipping the security lock over as he left her apartment so the door wouldn't close fully behind him.

Left alone for a moment, Veronica began to, again, second—or was it third—guess her decision to let him stay. He was a stranger, and not a pleasant one at that. But there was something about him…

"Got it," he called out as he strode confidently through the front door, gracefully setting the bottle down on the table. "Where do you keep the glasses?" he inquired, his tone light as if he spent evenings in her apartment frequently.

Veronica didn't have time to answer. Logan walked into her kitchen and opened the correct cabinet on his first try. "Funny, that's where I keep mine too," he announced. Veronica was in awe of him—the way he took over. She should feel uncomfortable...she should, but she didn't.

She found herself smiling as he placed a glass in front of her on the table. He produced a device from his pocket and deftly uncorked the bottle. "My friends own this winery," he explained as he poured her an ample amount and then filled his own, "It's the best."

He sat down and looked at her. She had no idea what he saw that gave him pause, but he hesitated. "Is this okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

Uncertainty seemed wrong on his face, she decided. She instantly missed the confident guy from a moment ago—even the one who had told her off the other night.

"No," she quickly reassured him, "this is nice."

He quietly nodded busied himself serving them both potatoes and other side dishes.

"So, Veronica," he asked, "tell me about yourself."

Veronica stifled her instant response to clam up. Maybe Weevil didn't tell him as much as she'd thought. "I'm from California," she began. At his nod, she continued. "A seedy beach town," she expounded.

"How did you end up in New York?" he asked, popping a mouthful of sweet potatoes into his mouth. "This is amazing!" he moaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

She smiled. It was the same reaction her dad always had to her Sweet Potatoes Anna. "Thanks. I actually don't love sweet potatoes, but…" she paused, surprised again by how forthcoming she was being.

"Your dad…" he surmised.

Clearly, Eli had a big mouth.

"Yeah," she responded, the food in her mouth suddenly tasting like cardboard.

"Tell me about him," Logan prompted.

Veronica gasped slightly and looked up to meet his eyes. He knew, then. The warmth in his eyes spurned her on. "My dad is...was...amazing. He was the sheriff—had been since I was little." Veronica shook the sadness out of her head.

Logan seemed to understand. "Must be a hard job," he mused. Veronica looked up to find him studying her, his wine glass near his lips. "Sheriff, I mean. It's elected," he explained. "You have to keep everyone happy."

Veronica nodded.

"My parents wined and dined the sheriff. Came in...handy."

Veronica watched as his features darkened slightly, she didn't like it. She found herself wanting to get the carefree Logan back once again.

"It's not all bad. I mean, we did love the Padres opening day tickets that were _anonymously_ delivered every year," she smiled. "What about you?" she asked, picking up her own wine glass.

He smiled. "What about me?"

"What's your story? What are you doing in Washington Heights when you could be on Park Avenue?"

He smiled at that, a genuine smile, and Veronica found herself melting. She wanted him to smile like that all the time.

"I mean other than the obvious," she added, pointedly.

His eyes narrowed playfully. "What's the obvious?"

"Well, your first motive was clearly to drive me out of house and home with obnoxious and incessant noise," she teased, looking away from him to cut into her hen.

He laughed out loud, bringing her attention back to his face. His eyes were now bright with mirth. That was better.

"You can't blame a guy for trying to get noticed by the cute blonde next door," he countered.

"Well, in that case, it's no wonder you're still single," she scoffed. Then she leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "For the record, if you're trying to get a girl's attention, yelling at her and slamming the door in her face probably isn't your best bet."

Logan's eyes went wide with shock. "So that's what I've been doing wrong!" He laughed heartily. "I wish you'd been around years ago and saved me all this trouble."

Veronica laughed too. They ate in silence for a few moments and then Logan spoke up.

"Park Avenue isn't really my scene anymore. I graduated from Brown and spent a few months traveling. Now I've landed my first _adult_ job, and Park Avenue doesn't exactly fit into my budget. I know Weevil—Eli—and this just seemed right."

So he was setting out on his own, she realized. Separating himself from his parents. She could respect that.

"Me too!" she agreed. "My dad knows Eli's cousin, so that's how we found this place when I came out to Columbia," she explained.

Logan raised his eyebrows. "All part of the plan to get your attention."

"Well, I don't deny that you got my attention. I just question your charm and finesse."

"My charm and finesse aren't the problem," Logan countered.

"Well then, what is?" she asked. She looked down and realized that she'd finished more than half of her food without realizing it.

"Bad timing," he responded, bringing the wine glass up to his lips and finishing it off. Then he reached out and picked up the bottle, pouring himself another half-glass and then topping her off. "I really _am_ sorry about that." He paused for a moment. "I was drowning out my Christmas blues with music rather than booze," he admitted. "It seemed like a move in the right direction at the time…"

"Before Christmas music, it was just bad garage music," she pointed out.

The look of horror that crossed his face was priceless. "That's my friend Dick's band," he insisted. "He was helping me move in and we were listening to demos."

"Well, your friend Dick's band sucks!"

"They booked a bar mitzvah," Logan shrugged.

"Mazel tov!" Veronica stated, lifting her glass in a toast.

Logan laughed. "You're terrible."

"No, _the music_ is terrible," she corrected.

"I'm being supportive!"

"Just when I'd thought the terrible _Dick_ music had stopped, you started up with even worse Christmas music."

Logan pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair. "It was my mom's favorite."

Veronica felt a knot form in her throat. Oops. She must have turned green because it appeared that Logan took pity on her.

"I don't know if she really liked _that song_ , but she was a huge Beatles fan." When Logan paused, Veronica racked her brain for anything she knew about Lynn Lester. It wasn't much. Veronica didn't follow Hollywood gossip. Beyond General Hospital, she hadn't known much about the actress except that she'd died very publically back when Veronica was in high school. "My dad hated it, so we used to sing it in the car when I was little. When we were in LA for Christmas, she'd drive around in the convertible singing at the top her lungs for all to hear." Logan laughed, lost in thought. "Sometimes we'd even do it when we were out here for Christmas and nearly freeze to death." He chuckled and fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. "It was kind of our thing."

"Sorry," Veronica said, "I didn't know."

"No, you couldn't have." Logan shook his head. "That night my dad had called, and...well, it doesn't matter; I shouldn't have been blaring it in the apartment late at night," he acknowledged. He blinked and looked at Veronica with eyes that seemed too old for his years. "Forgive me?" he asked.

As if she could do anything else with him looking at her—through her—the way he was. But she couldn't say that. "Well, you did bring me pie," she deflected.

"Pie!" he remembered. "It's good too!" he promised. "Weevil's grandma's famous pecan pie."

"Why do you call him Weevil?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, thinking hard. "I didn't when we were little, but it started in high school or junior high." Logan shrugged, coming up with no good answer. "We went to school together, but were in...different circles," Logan finished.

Veronica understood that all too well, having attended Neptune High School. Maybe they had more in common than she'd first realized—maybe they were different sides of the same coin. "Ready for pie?" she asked.

Still lounging back in his chair, Logan patted his stomach. "I think I need another minute," he said and then leaned forward to set his empty wine glass on the table before settling back again.

Veronica was left with nothing to say, so she busied herself collecting the dishes. Indy got up from the couch and trotted into the kitchen after her, eager for leftovers. Veronica cleared away the bones and then laid the plates on the floor for him to lap up the rest of the meat.

She made her way back to the main room to find Logan where she'd left him. She leaned over the table to blow out the candles and noticed that his eyes followed her chest as she did so. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater, so she was sure she wasn't giving him a show, but she was a little self-conscious all the same. And tingly. By the time she stood back straight, Logan's eyes were on hers again, seemingly innocent. She held back a snicker.

Logan made a big show of looking around her apartment.

"I'm pretty sure it's the same layout as yours," she teased.

"Yes, it's the reverse, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking that you need some decorations," he said.

Veronica had thought the same thing several times today. "I wasn't in the mood for a big Christmas this year," she said. At his silence, she continued. "I'd always gone home for Christmas, so I didn't have much here. Then when...well, the apartment's small. I put all the decorations in storage in California." Veronica worked hard to keep her voice steady. Maybe one day she'd be ready to go through all her dad's stuff, but she hadn't been at the time.

"I understand," Logan's voice cut through her sadness. "I'm just now getting around to bringing my mom's stuff out of storage," he said as if reading her mind.

And there reality was, sad and ever-present. "Enough" she decided. He looked up at her and she realized she'd said the words out loud. "No more ghosts of Christmas past," she stated firmly.

He gave her a small smile and stood up from the chair. "Good idea," he agreed.

"I'm going to get that pie," she stated, crossing to the kitchen. "And then I'm going to watch The Year Without Santa Claus. You in?" she asked him, peeking over her shoulder at him. She hadn't expected to say that. She hadn't expected to _do_ that—watch that movie. Especially not with him. Yes, it was tradition, but she knew she'd have chickend out in favor of holiday rom-com. She couldn't believe what she'd just said. It bothered her.

But Logan just nodded, not giving her a chance to take the words back. "Sounds great," he said. He was quiet for a moment and then crossed to her front door again. "But first, I have an idea," he said, disappearing into the hallway with the door propped open once again. "Be right back," he called to her.

Veronica shook her head, curious, hoping he didn't come back with more food. She was stuffed. Veronica concentrated on cutting the pie perfectly. The first piece came out an absolute mess, but the second was perfect.

She was contemplating cutting a third and hiding the first mess when she heard a shuffle at the door. She put down the knife and fork and was surprised to see the top of a Douglas Fir pushing through her doorway. "A little help would be appreciated," Logan's voice called from out in the hallway.

Veronica laughed, holding the door open wide and grabbing the tree top. The tree had lights on it and became wedged in the doorway. "I think you're supposed to back it in from the bottom," she called out.

"Yeah, I forgot about the part where it was all wrapped up when I brought it home," he laughed. "I already dumped water all over the floor out here," he called.

"Just pull it back through," she laughed.

"No, it was a romantic gesture, and I've committed now!" he laughed. "Pull hard!"

Veronica found herself laughing too. "I am!"

Finally, Logan adjusted the angle and with a loud _crack_ , the tree came bursting through the door. Veronica landed hard on her butt, the tree still in her arms.

"Sorry!" Logan uttered, lifting the tree off of her. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." He set the tree up properly and then held his hand down to her, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she warned.

"I wouldn't dare!" he responded, pulling her to her feet. "I'm laughing at myself. I keep messing things up."

Veronica found herself laughing right along with him. It felt good. When she was back on her feet, Veronica surveyed the tree. One large branch was hanging by a thread after breaking in the doorway.

"Oops!" Logan laughed.

"Guess that side's going in the back!" she chuckled, moving to a corner to push a small bookcase to one side, making room for the tree.

Logan pushed the tree into place and plugged the lights in before they both stepped back to look at the tree. It wasn't bad from this angle. Suddenly she felt shy.

"Not too shabby, Echolls," she told him. The tree was bare except for the lights. "Now I wish I'd brought back the ornaments," she admitted softly.

"I only have one. A butterfly. It was my mom's favorite," he said distractedly, pointing to the lone ornament on the tree. It was made of metal, but Veronica was surprised it had survived the delivery.

Logan turned in a slow circle and then, his eye catching something, he bent over to pick up a frame from the bookcase she'd just moved. Veronica saw what he grabbed, a small picture of her dad and Indy. He placed it on a strong branch and then stepped back again, nodding in appreciation. "That's better," he said, stepping back to her side. "No ghosts of Christmas past," he clarified, "memories of better times that you can keep with you as you create new traditions."

Veronica fought tears, but they were happy ones. Her body leaned slightly into his side of its own accord.

"Thank you! But you have to take your mom's ornament back," she insisted.

Logan stiffened slightly and then relaxed, throwing an arm over her shoulder and accepting her weight. "No rush," he told her. "I know where you live."

It was the first physical contact Veronica had had in too long. Sure, her friends hugged her in greeting, but standing here in her apartment on Christmas day with Logan's arm around her was...intimate. And she liked it.

After a moment, the connection became awkward and she moved out of his embrace, murmuring something about pie that even she didn't understand. She made her way back to the kitchen, remembering that she did have whipped cream from the time Mac and Wallace and she had made Snowplows one snowy night just before Logan had moved in.

She snuck a quick glance at Logan, who was now looking at the rest of the pictures on the bookshelf, and then stuck the messy piece of pie into the fridge as she grabbed the whipped cream. He'd been so impressed with her multiple-course dinner that she didn't want to shatter the illusion just yet.

Happy with the perfect slices of pie topped with homemade whipped cream, Veronica placed a fork on each plate and made her way out to her guest.

"If this tastes half as good as it looks, we'll be going back for seconds," she said with a smile as she handed him one plate and sat down on the other side of Indy.

"So what's this movie we're watching?" There was speculation in his voice.

"The Year Without Santa Claus?"

He shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"No way!" she blurted. "It's one of those claymation classics..." she prompted.

Logan scratched his chin, appearing to be tapping into a memory. Veronica waited.

"I think I once saw Rudolph's Shiny New Year..." he ventured.

Veronica shivered in distaste and felt her eyebrows rise in horror. Logan only laughed. "Seriously? That's not even remotely close."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me," Logan said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the back of the couch.

"Prepare yourself for greatness, Logan Echolls," Veronica couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. Her bravado faded a bit when she queued up the video from the DVR. She hesitated. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but The Year Without Santa Claus was a bit...well, now that she thought about it, it wasn't actually that great at all. And she'd just built it up.

Veronica turned and saw Logan pause, his fork halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked innocently.

Part of her wanted to warn him, but then she just shrugged. He was just her neighbor. They weren't friends or anything. And he'd been a jerk. She smiled slyly as she hit the 'play' button. He'd survive; the movie wasn't even an hour long.

* * *

Veronica felt a little self-conscious as she reached for the remote and paused the DVR when the credits began to roll. She cautiously threw a look in Logan's direction, silently willing him to not mock her Christmas tradition.

"How did I not know about this as a child?" he asked incredulously. "I would have loved it."

Veronica felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "I don't know. I don't even know what made my dad watch it, but he loved it." Veronica smiled, momentarily lost in memory. Then she remembered she wasn't alone. "I was hoping you wouldn't think it was too corny."

"My nannies were always trying to keep me entertained. And chase my father. I'm shocked they didn't park me in front of this movie starting just after Thanksgiving." He seemed momentarily lost as well.

Veronica wasn't sure what to do next. It wasn't late enough to kick him out under the guise of going to bed, but she didn't have much else planned for the night.

"If you want corny, you should hear my plans for the evening," Logan said. Suddenly looking sheepish, he was fiddling with Indy's collar. The dog had stayed between them throughout the movie, only moving occasionally to adjust Logan's petting hand to a new location.

Veronica was intrigued. "I am all about Christmas corny," she assured him.

"I was going to watch Riverside Yuletide."

"I've never heard of it," Veronica admitted.

"It's my mom's movie." Logan readjusted, turning slightly to look at her. "Lifetime Christmas movies weren't a thing so much in the '90s, but my mom made a silly made-for-TV movie back then with some Mel Gibson wannabe. It's the cheesiest thing ever. Not her best work. She wouldn't even watch it when it was on TV that year."

He paused for a moment, and Veronica gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"After she died, one of her director friends asked what he could do, and a few years ago I remembered the movie and called him up to track me down a copy. I watched it that year and last year…" he shrugged. "I guess now it's a tradition."

"Well, go get it!" Veronica couldn't help but say. "I already cleaned out the Hallmark app's supply."

She stopped when he began playing with Indy's collar again. He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was low. "I've never watched it with anyone else before."

It took a moment for the weight of his words to kick in. "Oh!" she sat up straight and leaned over the dog to look at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I've taken up your night. If you want to go—"

"No!" he interrupted. "It's not like that." He covered her hand, now resting on Indy's rotund tummy, with his own. "I was hesitating because...well, sometimes it makes me cry."

"All Christmas movies make people cry, silly," she reassured him. "It's like their entire purpose for being. Fifty-three people have watched _A Prince for Christmas_ every day since they released it."

He looked skeptical.

"The _same_ fifty-three people, Logan... _every day_. The numbers don't lie. That's telling you something. And all fifty-three probably cry every time."

That made him chuckle a little.

"What's it about?" she prompted.

"Riverside Yuletide?" he asked. She nodded and he continued. "The guy—the Mel Gibson doppelganger guy—is off fighting in some war—"

"Which war?" she interrupted.

"How should I know?" he playfully questioned, looking heavenward. "It was the '90s."

"The Gulf War?" she surmised, eyebrows up.

He laughed hard this time. "I don't know. Why does it matter."

She shrugged, not really knowing why it mattered or if it did at all. "I'm trying to set the scene," she explained.

"Okay, fine then, we'll say it's the Gulf War," Logan said with a chuckle and a flip of his hands. He looked as though he were waiting for Veronica to interrupt again. "Still good so far?" he teased.

Veronica made a motion of zipping her mouth shut and nodded. She raised her eyebrows again so he would continue.

"So anyways, as I was saying," he threw her a pointed, yet amused, look, "he's away at war and he's dreaming of a home-cooked meal. And he's reading this article a woman—my mom—wrote about her plan for the perfect home cooked meal for her family in some magazine."

Veronica made a move to speak, but he stopped her.

"I don't know which magazine!" he preempted, his eyebrows furrowed in mock annoyance.

"Ha! I hadn't even been about to ask that," she gloated. Well, maybe she had been. But he didn't need to know that. She re-zipped her lips.

"And when he comes home, they interview him on the news, and he says that what kept him going through the _Gulf_ war was this article that he'd kept with him." Logan stopped for a moment and smiled absently. "So the magazine hears this and sends him to the woman's house for Christmas. But she—my mom's character—is a fraud. She lives in a tiny apartment in—

"Riverside," Veronica speculated.

Logan rolled his eyes but continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "—Riverside. She doesn't have a family, and she doesn't even know how to cook. So she has to stage it all in a hurry."

"And hilarity ensues?"

He nodded at her. "Cheesy, '90s-brand hilarity ensues," he agreed with a twinkling smile.

"Did you unpack it yet?" she asked.

"The movie?" he asked and then nodded.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She shot him a toothy smile that she hoped looked as sincere as it was. "I must watch this '90's-brand cheese! I can't believe you've made me wait this long."

He seemed reluctant for about two more seconds before he relented. As he retreated out the door, he flipped the latch over again so he could return. To her amusement, Indy followed Logan out into the hall.

Logan couldn't be that bad if he got the Indy stamp of approval, she decided as she stood up to refill the dog's dish.

Logan reappeared a moment later, Indy at his heels, handed her the plain DVD with "Lynn" written on the top in Sharpie and sat down where he'd been on the couch. She popped it into the DVD player and grabbed the remote again to start it before flopping onto the couch next to him, while Indy munched happily from the kitchen.

"If you laugh when I cry, I'll be ruined for life," he informed her.

"You've known me all of three hours. What does it matter what I think?" she countered.

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know...but somehow it does."

Veronica didn't want to think too much about his words. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and pressed 'play'.

* * *

"That was hilarious!" Veronica announced when the movie was over.

"Hilariously terrible?" he speculated.

"Why has nobody seen this movie?" she asked.

"Um...because it sucks?" he offered.

"A bit outdated, sure, but it was funny." Veronica shrugged. "When he goes to change the baby's diaper and she screams because she remembers she borrowed the neighbor's baby who is actually a boy not a girl made me snort."

"Yes, that was super ladylike," he admitted.

"Good thing being ladylike isn't high on my life's goals," she shrugged.

"Clearly!" he laughed, reaching out to touch her shoulder. He must have realized what he'd done because he pulled away quickly. Too quickly.

She'd liked it. But now there was a moment of awkwardness. She didn't want to dwell on the movie either though, so she decided to go another direction.

"You up for more pie?"

Logan lit up at that. "It's like you read my mind!"

Veronica hopped up and began rummaging through her cupboards. "It'll just take a sec," she called out. "I'm going to have to wash some plates."

She jumped a little bit when Logan seemingly appeared beside her. "I don't need a plate...just grab some forks!"

Now it was Veronica's time to beam. "A man after my own heart," she announced before she thought the better of it. Her cheeks burned red and she felt warm all over. Open mouth, insert foot.

Logan gave her a long look but thankfully let it go. He opened the fridge and stole her whipped cream and two forks. "Right where I keep them!" he exclaimed when he opened the correct drawer on the first try. "Grab the pie," he called over his shoulder as he returned to the couch.

When she returned to the sofa with leftover pie in hand—minus the ugly piece she'd hidden—she got a warm, fuzzy feeling. Butterflies. She got butterflies just from looking at him. And it was crazy because she'd just met this guy, but...wow.

He was anything but the jackass she'd met two days before; his eyes were warm and inviting, his demeanor too. Veronica didn't know how to proceed, how to respond. These feelings she was having... She always kept people at arm's length, careful not to get hurt. But, could he...could Logan...there was something about him that made her want to—

"Everything okay?"

His silky smooth voice cut through her woolgathering and a shiver ran down her spine. She shook her head to gather her wits. It was much too early to be thinking this deeply into anything.

"Nothing! I was just contemplating if you'd judge me when you realized I stashed one piece in the fridge for breakfast," she lied.

"This pie is great. I'd be offended if you didn't," he replied evenly, his eyebrows raised sincerely.

How could this guy be both Jackass and Logan? It was incomprehensible to her.

Veronica avoided his gaze as she sat down on the sofa next to him and turned slightly so they'd both have access to the pie. It was then that she saw the fork he held out to her, and she took it with a blush and a smile.

She laughed out loud when he clinked his fork against hers in a goofy toast, and then they both dug in. Neither of them spoke for several moments as they indulged. But she caught his eye several times, and each time she did, she found him studying her the way she'd done him earlier. It made her shiver again, despite her efforts not to. His gaze was intense, though she knew it wasn't his intention to make her uncomfortable. Veronica mentally scrambled for something to say to break the silence.

Indy did the job for her. He came over and rubbed his wet nose against her arm and then ran over to do a pretty sit by the hook that held his leash. Poor, Indy, she'd neglected him. He hadn't been out in hours.

"I really should take him out," Veronica said, but she didn't move. She couldn't just leave this virtual stranger in her apartment, but she couldn't ask him to leave either, could she? Luckily, he spoke up before she had to decide.

"Want some company?" he asked almost shyly. His eyes left hers for the first time in so long. "For protection, I mean," he explained sheepishly.

Veronica cocked her head to the side and pretended to consider this and he slowly met her gaze again. "I think I'll stick with the pitbull for protection," she teased.

Logan's cheeks colored and he looked down again. "That's fine, I, uh…"

Veronica crossed over to the door, unhooked Indy's leash, and then turned back to him. "But as far as company goes..." she teased, "I'll take the not-so-jackass from down the hall."

His eyes met hers again, and he stood and made his way over to her. "The old guy in 4A?" he speculated, one brow raised as he nodded his head in the direction of 4A.

Suddenly unable to speak, Veronica just shook her head no.

And then he smiled as he stood up and made his way toward her. A genuine, full smile that reached all the way up to his eyes.

She liked that smile, and something inside her knew that it was rare. She was drunk off good food, wine, and pie, so she spoke her thoughts.

"You should smile more!" she said.

That made him squirm again, but the smile stayed in place, along with those smoldering eyes that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

He shrugged. "Maybe I just needed a reason to smile."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she bent over to latch Indy's leash to his collar and then ducked past Logan to open the coat closet just behind him. As she retrieved her coat, gloves, and boots, Logan opened her front door. Then they walked silently together to his apartment so he could get his own winter wear.

Once they were all bundled up, Logan motioned for Veronica to proceed him and then they wound their way down the maze of too-narrow and somewhat-sloped stairs to the first floor. She could see people through the set of doors that lead outside and groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was chaos outside her door on Christmas day because Indy couldn't wait.

Veronica opened the inner door and paused a moment inside her building's vestibule, bracing herself for the blast of cold air she knew awaited her. She tucked her chin in a bit and raised her shoulders to burrow herself a little farther into her scarf, and then, with a deep breath, she threw open the outer door. The blast of icy wind she'd been anticipating penetrated right through all of her layers and instantly chilled her to the bone. But the crowd—the crowd she'd dreaded pushing through—warmed her heart.

 _Silent night,_

 _Holy night_

 _All is calm,_

 _All is bright..._

They were caroling. They were a group of singers—maybe a dozen or so—who were clearly a hodgepodge that had been collected over several blocks as people joined in. Amidst the hustle and bustle, this rag-tag group of men and women—some more on-key than others—was huddled together sharing Christmas joy. It was magical.

"Isn't it amazing how Manhattan can surprise you?" a calm voice spoke from just behind her. The warmth of his breath tickled her cold cheek. He'd taken the words right out of her mouth.

And in that moment, on that cold sidewalk outside her door, Veronica leaned back into Logan a little just to listen. Her breath caught when his hand settled on her waist and held her close.

When the song began to wind down, Veronica turned her face up to his and nodded. "New Yorkers never cease to surprise me." She paused for a moment and then turned toward him. He was but a breath away. The song ended and the group fell silent for a split second before they began to talk about what they should sing next.

"And that song is so apropos because when I returned from the last walk with Indy, all I wanted was a silent night, and—" she smiled at him.

"And then I barged in and ruined your plans...again," he finished for her.

"Luckily, I'm adaptable to whatever life throws at me," she smiled.

"'Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans,'" he quoted, suddenly removing his hand from her side and placing both his in his back pockets.

"John Lennon said that," Veronica said knowingly.

Logan raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. "My favorite Beatle," he said, though Veronica doubted it was true.

"Somehow I doubt that," Veronica said, unable to keep the smile from stretching across her lips. She turned to the group. "Do you take requests?"

"Yes, _please_ ," one of the carolers called out. "Anything we know!"

"My friend here," Veronica paused and pointed dramatically at Logan like she was a model on _The Price is Right_ , "absolutely _loves_ Paul McCartney. Do you know Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time," she asked.

Several members of the group piped up that they knew it, and soon the song was in full swing.

"This is just _wrong,_ " he stated emphatically.

"Do tell," she flirted, turning to give him her full attention.

His eyebrows were so high they almost touched his hairline, and his eyes were wide. "It's late—it's like past eleven. You should be furious. All this racket. The neighbors might have other plans!" he teased throwing his arms wide to indicate the buildings around them. "It's shitty Christmas music, too," he goaded further. "Add in some slamming doors and this is like your worst nightmare."

Veronica gave him a long hard look. It had been a long time since she'd been around someone who challenged her the way Logan did.

"I mean it's—" he began.

"—so wrong it's right?" she finished.

"Exactly," he said, another genuine smile stretched across his face.

Not knowing what to say, Veronica just turned back to the carolers and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

After the song finished, the carolers, with a wave, continued on down Cabrini Boulevard before disappearing out of sight down W. 181st, singing O, Come All Ye Faithful as they went. Suddenly the streets were quiet—or as quiet as they could be in Manhattan. It was late on Christmas, and light flurries flitted about in the air in no hurry to reach the ground. Everyone who had sense, and no dog to walk, was tucked away for the evening.

Luckily for Veronica, Indy had had enough cold, outdoor time, and was ready to head back in in no time at all. Logan took the leash from her and beckoned her ahead of himself once again as they ascended the squeaky, hardwood staircase.

Veronica, unaccustomed to situations like this, men in her apartment, didn't pause when she reached his door and continued on to her own just one door down. When she arrived, she felt his hand on her arm and turned toward him.

"It's late," he stated as he threw in an exaggerated yawn for good measure. "I know you like your silence."

Veronica couldn't contain her eye roll. But, before she could object, or even decide if she wanted to, Logan dropped down onto one knee and gave Indy a good scratching across his wide nose and forehead. When Logan stood up, he hesitated as if he wanted to say something else but then didn't. They just stood there, outside her apartment door, in an awkward silence.

Suddenly overheated in her layers now that she was in the warmth of her hallway, Veronica pulled off her gloves and hat, momentarily forgetting the state of static array that she'd be in after doing so.

Logan's smirk made her self-conscious. She groaned in frustrated embarrassment as she tried to set herself to rights. He halted her hands when he reached out and brushed some hair off of her forehead.

The moment was too much. Too intimate, too quickly. Veronica needed space. Time to think. Time to...breathe. But she couldn't leave things on this odd note. And she wanted to know when she'd see him again.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Not tomorrow," he responded, his hands now tucked back in his pockets where she liked them. She felt safer that way. Safer from her own emotions. "I'm headed out to Long Island, though." Logan moved his hands again, fidgeting with the bottom button of his coat. "I've got some...loose ends to tie up, so you'll have a few days of peace and quiet," he assured her.

"I've recently come to the conclusion that peace and quiet is overrated," she informed him.

"Really?" he questioned skeptically. "I have a hard time believing that."

Veronica just shrugged in response and then turned to unlock her door. "Well, _neighbor_ ," she said. "Assuming you have no fish that need to be fed or plants that need to be watered in your absence, I guess this is goodnight."

"My only plant is currently sitting in your living room," Logan chuckled. "So please take good care of it."

Veronica nodded sharply. "It'll be well watered until you come back to drag it down to the curb and then vacuum up all the needles."

"I'll be back before New Years'," he promised her, turning back and walking to his apartment. "I'll give you a knock." He looked back at her and smirked as he shrugged. "Or just slam the door a few times or something."

Veronica chuckled. "Sounds nice," she replied, opening her door and shoving Indy inside.

"Goodnight, Veronica," Logan said as he unlocked and pushed open his own door.

"Goodnight, Logan," she replied. "Thanks for the pie." Ready to end the night so she could sit down and over-analyze the events of the evening ad nauseam, Veronica crossed the threshold.

"Hey, Veronica," Logan's voice called from back in the hallway. Unable to help herself, Veronica popped her head back into the hall.

"Tonight...could have been...bad. But you...well, being with you…" Logan struggled for words, which Veronica suspected was a rarity for him.

"Me too," Veronica responded, understanding all too well what he meant.

He offered her a wan smile, said goodnight again, and disappeared into his apartment. Veronica smiled when she heard his door click softly shut.

She immediately wiped off Indy's paws and placed her boots on the little carpet square she'd put in her hall closet for wet shoes. As she crossed through her apartment, she spied her unfinished wine glass on the coffee table and retrieved it. Not ready to turn in for the night, she crossed the apartment to the window. She stood there for several minutes, just watching the snow slowly envelop her city in a thin layer of white.

A twinkling of light out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to see the light reflecting off of something metal on the tree. Logan's butterfly. Lynn's butterfly. She should return it to him. She couldn't believe he'd brought it over in the first place. But as she approached the tree, the sight of her dad's frame next to Logan's mom's butterfly gave her a sense of contentment. It was almost as if it was all meant to happen. She hadn't thought she believed in such things, but, she supposed, anything was possible.

"Goodnight, Dad," she said in the direction of the tree as she crossed to her room to change into pajamas.

Tonight she'd more than survived her first Christmas without her dad. She'd enjoyed it. Logan had been right. The night could have been many things, but because of Logan, it had been full of hope. And now she wanted more. And hoped he did too.

* * *

A/N: I know everyone was expecting Veronica revenge, but this had to be short, so things took a turn. The movie that Lynn's is based on is Christmas in Connecticut, and it is a family favorite. And that statistic about A Christmas Prince was totally true!

I haven't written chapter 3 of this yet—and I am focused on Going Left right now—but I will get to this eventually.


	3. December 30

Veronica groaned in frustration as she whirled in a circle, scanning all horizontal surfaces for her phone. She cursed her terrible habit of laying things down without much thought. Her phone simply had to be here somewhere. Annoyed, she patted the pile of bills on the table and then she bent over to see if the silly phone was on a chair. No such luck. She'd just have to wait until the darn thing vibrated again and resume the hunt. If she didn't find it soon, she'd resort to calling it from her laptop, but she was much too stubborn to do that unless she was desperate. And it hadn't come to that.

"Indy," she growled out as she crossed the room and crouched down in front of the sofa, searching the dark recesses of the corners for her phone. No such luck. "I know you know where it is, don't you?" Veronica asked.

She pulled herself up to her knees and found herself face to face with her pooch's wide head. He was upside down on the couch with his legs straight up in the hair. His overly-large mouth was slightly open, his excess lips were hanging wide. He'd look ferocious with all those teeth showing if it weren't for his goofy grin and long tongue hanging out to one side. "You're such a doofus," she said to him in a silly voice that she reserved for the pooch, scratching his exposed chin. "You know it could be your BFF Logan texting," she told him.

At the sound of Logan's name, Indy gave two loud pats of his tail against the couch. Veronica stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Her dog couldn't possibly know Logan's name yet, could he? Though goodness knew why Indy had taken such a liking to her, admittedly cute — if somewhat annoyingly unconscientious—neighbor. Or why _she_ had. She'd avoided all men and dating for over six months, determined to keep herself focused. Determined not to try to fill the void of missing her father with meaningless encounters.

Veronica snuck a peek at the tree still in the corner. It reminded her of Logan and the scrap of paper she'd found slid under her door the morning after Christmas with his phone number scrawled across it in careful script next to the words 'My number In case of arboreal emergency'. What a dork.

Veronica didn't want to admit that she'd gotten kind of attached to the tree. And now it was even decorated. She'd gotten cold after spending most of December 26th tailing a cheating husband all the way down to Water Street — turned out adulterers don't take breaks for holidays — and decided to get warm checking out Lot-Less' after-Christmas sales a few blocks away. There, she'd seen two boxes of string lights for only $2.99 each — the one box of blue and white lights that actually weren't Christmassy at all, and the second box of multicolored lights. She'd never understand what made her purchase them, but she had. So now Logan's Tree — that's what she'd taken to calling it, Logan's Tree...proper noun, upper case — was sparkling in the dim light of the apartment with its lone two ornaments. Well, one ornament, one frame. And since she had his number right there, she'd taken a picture to show him and texted it off before she could lose her nerve. They'd shared a few messages back and forth since then.

But it was days later now. Veronica stood up and crossed the room. Logan's Tree was now looking a little droopy. She brushed the branches with the back of her hand. It didn't smell piney anymore. It was dropping needles and not quite as green as it had been five days ago, but the sight of it still made her warm and fuzzy inside.

 _What?_

No, no, no! It was much too early for such tomfoolery. She wasn't ready for that. She wouldn't allow herself to be ready for that! No.

Logan had texted yesterday that he would be back in town sometime today, but there wouldn't be any fluttery hearts. There wouldn't be any weak knees. She—

Veronica's thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the unmistaken sound of buzzing. _Yes!_ That phone was nearby! She whirled in the direction of the vibration. She narrowed her eyes as she pinpointed the source of the noise. The sofa. Or, more accurately, the _dog_ lying on the sofa.

"I knew it!" she gave Indy her sternest look as she mock-scolded him.

Indy thumped his tail a few more times, unperturbed, and she'd swear the corners of his ginormous mouth lifted a centimeter. "You couldn't have said that five minutes ago?" she asked him, crossing back over to the couch. She reached around him, using her body as a wedge to slightly roll him to one side. "Gosh, you're...solid. What are they feeding you?" she asked him as she managed to maneuver him enough to slide both hands under him — one on each side — and search. She found the blasted phone somewhere up between Indy's shoulder blades. She opened her mouth to offer some clever retort...some witty repartee when Indy's large tongue landed a huge wet, lickery kiss right across her mouth.

" _Blehh_!" she let out, falling back onto her butt on the floor as she used the sleeve of her old Columbia sweatshirt to mop canine saliva from her face. "Dog germs are the worst!" she told him, only mildly annoyed.

Indy's only response was a slow-motion roll and rotate that somehow landed him on his feet between Veronica and the couch with much more grace that a sixty-pound less-than-agile pitbull should be capable of. He seemed content with the situation and made his way over to the door. He nudged his chin in the direction of where his leash hung.

"Seriously?" she questioned him. "You're going to follow up... _that_ with a request?"

Indy walked over to the entryway. To further ensure sure his answer was clearly in the affirmative, he did a little 360-degree turn in front of the door and a pretty sit.

Veronica stole a glance at the clock and had to admit that it was indeed a good time to get out. It was much easier to walk a dog before the riff-raff came out of the shadows. She had a pitbull and a stun gun, but it was always just simpler to not need both. At the very least, it involved less paperwork.

With a long, loud sigh, Veronica made her way to the door and pulled on her warm, sturdy Sorel boots. She grabbed her warmest winter coat out of the closet and slid her newly re-found phone into the pocket. She donned the coat, her well-used Sharks beanie, and a pair of heather grey phone-friendly knit gloves that she'd treated herself to at an after-Christmas sale. Once she'd secured Indy's leash, Veronica pulled open the door and let the dog precede her up the hall to the long staircase which led down to the main floor.

When they'd reached the third-floor landing, Veronica remembered the reason for her phone search in the first place and dug it out of her pocket. She unlocked it with her covered thumb — best gloves ever! — and pulled up her messages as she continued down the winding staircase.

The first was from Mac assuring Veronica that she would be in town on the second and wanted to hear all about the developments with Jackass Hottie. Yikes! Veronica hissed air through her teeth. Though she dearly loved nicknames, Veronica needed to come up with a new code word for Logan. Mac would eventually spill the beans on this one for sure. She'd think on it as they walked.

There was another message from her old college roommate Parker asking if Veronica had gotten Parker's Christmas card. The card that doubled as a save-the-date for Parker's wedding to her longtime boyfriend, Leo. Of course she had. Veronica suddenly envisioned a cotton-candy-pink bridesmaid dress with a sweetheart neckline in her future and attempted to stifle the shudder that ran down her spine. Not ready to face that reality, Veronica swiped to the next message.

Logan.

She couldn't help it. Her heart did a little stutter-step and an uncontrollable, un-holdbackable smile stretched across her lips just at the sight of his name on the screen. She hadn't even read the message yet.

Oh yeah, she had it bad.

Veronica let out a little groan.

She had it soooo bad.

She paused momentarily as she reached the second-floor landing and leaned into the emotions she was feeling. The fluttering in her belly. Her bounding heart rate. She had to accept them for what they were: gooey-girl feelings she had for a boy she'd met all of _two_ times. And the first, though memorable, hadn't done much to recommend him. But the _second time_ …well, _that_ Logan had been perfect. He'd been just what she'd needed.

Maybe _that_ was the issue. Maybe she'd just been vulnerable and he'd been the proverbial shoulder to cry on in a weak moment. Sure, they'd texted back and forth a few times since he'd left Christmas night. Sure, he'd seemed sweet. But maybe that was all just Christmas magic. Maybe he'd come back from his family's mansion and would be back to shitty garage music and slamming doors. An inherently cynical girl could hope, right? There was nothing wrong with a healthy dose of realism. It was, after all, a very cruel, black-and-white world; there was little room for grey.

With a decisive nod, Veronica took the last set of stairs in quick succession until she reached the lobby. Now steeled with her Neptune's-other-side-of-the-tracks chutzpah, leaned against the wall near the door to 1B and opened the message from Logan Echolls.

Logan to Veronica: You about ready to close out this shitty year?

And then damn, he had to go and say something like..well, like _that_. Because Logan had talked to Eli. And he'd talked to her. And he knew how shitty of a year she'd really had.

Logan to Veronica: Because I have an idea if you're willing.

Veronica closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall as she breathed out slowly. And just like that, she wasn't hard Veronica Mars, daughter of a sheriff, Neptunite, cynical and stubborn. She was just Veronica. And she needed love and comfort as much as the next girl who, though hardened, enjoyed Hallmark-brand cheese and unicorns. And somehow she had to come to terms with that duality.

A smile crept across her lips again. She could do it. She could be that girl. Both of them.

Sure she'd think of a coy reply for Logan after the icy air hit her face, Veronica opened her eyes to find a large looming figure standing across the way from her just a foot or two away. She jumped in surprise, cursing herself for not having her stun gun with her. But she had Indy and he wouldn't let anyone...she readied herself to have to give her well-trained dog a command when she realized the leash was slack. And Indy wasn't lunging at the intruder. What the hell? And then she realized it was because Indy was snuggled against the stranger...the one who wasn't a stranger at all.

Veronica held in a scream until she really took in the face of Logan Echolls. She willed her heart to slow down, but the realization of who was standing there didn't ease the fight-or-flight taking place in her chest. If anything, the sight of him made her heart race even more. _Quisling organ_! She chastised her heart.

"You scared the shit out of me! You almost got tased!" she screeched at him, holding her free hand to her chest.

"Tased with what?" Logan asked, his eyes full of laughter as he looked openly at her taser-free hands.

"With—" Veronica looked at the phone in her hand. "I don't know," she shot out irritably.

He must have noticed how upset she was because Logan's eyes went wide and his head flinched back an inch or two, but his arms were full and he was pressed against the wall. He really had nowhere to go. "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I didn't mean to…" he trailed off, looking ashamed and yet...not.

"To give me a heart attack?" she interrogated.

"No! Definitely didn't mean to do that," he said, setting his bag down that was on his shoulder and reaching for her.

Veronica stepped back instinctively, but she had nowhere to go either. Logan pulled his hand back, clearly worried about scaring her again.

"I really wasn't trying to be quiet. I came in and you were standing there. I didn't know how to _not_ scare you. Didn't know if I should talk or not talk or touch you or not. I _did_ clear my throat." He paused for a moment, patting Indy on the head. "I didn't know how to scare you the _least_."

Veronica retracted her claws. It really _wasn't_ his fault, after all. Now embarrassed that she'd yelled at him, she didn't know what to say.

It was Logan who broke the silence.

"You're taking Indy for a walk?"

Veronica nodded, grateful for the change of topic. "Yeah, he's been cooped up all day with the snowfall."

Logan adjusted the strap of the duffel bag, hiking it up a bit farther as if it had slid. Then he brushed the snow from his beanie. He ended up pulling it completely off, and at the sight of his hat-tousled hair, Veronica felt herself begin to swoon again. He was so hot.

 _Pull yourself together, Veronica,_ she commanded herself, making her eyes shift anywhere other than him. An awkward silence ensued, as she grappled for anything logical to say. Luckily, Logan spoke up again.

"If you want to wait a minute, I can come with you," Logan offered, throwing a look up the stairs at his apartment and then looking back at her. "I just have to toss this bag in my place and I can—"

"Sure" she interrupted, eager to get Indy out the door. He really had been in too long. "I should warn you, though, that we won't be long. Indy is a fair weather walker," she explained. "This is his first New York winter and I think he's lamenting about Southern California about now. From the look of your boots," Veronica indicated Logan's snow-covered footwear, "I doubt we will make it past the first tree."

Logan flashed a brief smile and then turned to go up the stairs. "Sounds good," he called out over his shoulder. "I'll see you in a sec."

As predicted, Indy took one look at the three inches of powder on the stoop and halted in place, looking up at Veronica as if to say _I didn't think you were serious._ She ushered him down the snow-covered steps and since there was no one on the street at all, a rarity, she unhooked his leash. "Be free," she jokingly called out to him as he meandered slowly, lifting his paws high in the air as he walked, keeping at least one up at all times. He wasn't going far. She couldn't help but laugh at him.

"I believe you're supposed to curb your dog." Logan's voice spoke from behind her.

Veronica knew his voice by now and managed to do a slow, hopefully, nonchalant turn to face him.

"We're in single digits here. He can darn well curb himself," she informed him, keeping her voice light. Before another awkward silence could begin, Veronica spoke up again. "How was your week?"

Logan shrugged noncommittally. "It's nice to be back home," he answered. "I like the quiet. It was quiet there too, but it's different when it's your own quiet."

Veronica understood. At first moving to New York had been crazy. All the different sounds and noises from a California beach town. But her mind was less busy here. New York suited her now. "Sometimes I miss California. The sounds of the ocean. The eighty degree winters. It was quieter. Here there's always sound but it's still...I dunno, quiet. Because I'm on my own, I suppose."

"Even fifty degrees would sound nice about now," he agreed, rubbing his gloved hands together. He paused for a moment and when he spoke, it came out hesitant. Unsure. "So what if I proposed an adventure tomorrow. Something decidedly _not_ quiet?" he asked her shyly, his eyes fixed somewhere around her hands. At least she hoped it was her hands.

"For New Year's Eve?" she asked. "I've never been a big fan. All the pomp and circumstance for a different day on the calendar."

"You?" he asked, surprised and finally meeting her eyes again. "Such cynicism? You, fan of Christmas cheese?"

Honestly, she hadn't been a fan of New Year's Eve since her mother had left. Every year she'd hoped it would be the year her mother would come home. She was still waiting. "Christmas can be magical under any circumstances. New Year's is just an excuse to party. And someone always steps on your feet when you're wearing your fancy new strappy sandals…"

"It's like eight degrees. There's no place for strappy sandals," he reminded her.

"Oh no...the New York version is even better. Here someone steals your coat!" she yelled, unable to stop the flailing of her arms in fury.

"No one here has ever stolen my coat on New Year's Eve," he told her plainly.

"Well, it happened to me. My friends Wallace and Mac promised me that we would have a fun time, that no one stepped on strappy sandals in New York. So we went out to a club and someone took my coat! And we all had to stand around and wait until they closed at four to see if my coat was the only one left. Turns out lots of people leave without their coats which makes less than no sense because, news flash, it's _cold_ here."

"Did someone take your coat?" he asked sarcastically.

Veronica play punched him in the stomach. "It's not funny. And I had to take someone else's coat. Which turned out to be a _smoker's_ coat so I didn't freeze."

"That's so wrong to take someone else's coat," he told her, teasing.

"It was that or freeze," she chided him, shrugging her shoulders.

"I think your dog is done," Logan told her, clearly working hard to keep his face straight.

Veronica turned to see Indy standing at the door to her building, looking supremely unamused.

 _Excellent,_ she told herself. She wanted nothing more than warmth herself.

"What if I had a proposal that involved an important, quintessential New York City moment _sans_ coat theft?" he asked, stepping ahead of her and using his key to open the front door.

Veronica rolled her eyes at him because he couldn't see her from in front of her. "I don't think you can ever guarantee that."

"I can," he promised, drawing out the word. "Because we could leave our coats...actually _on,"_ he told her. Logan pulled open the door, motioning for her to walk into the vestibule ahead of him.

Veronica was sure that nothing he was about to say could be good. Or warm. She pushed through the second door and nearly moaned at the _whoosh_ of slightly-less-cold air of the hallway. She held the second door open for him and they all slid into the semi-warmth of the old foyer.

As Veronica's mind thawed with the warm air, Logan's words began to sink in. She made her way to the first level of stairs and began to reluctantly climb. Suddenly four flights of stairs seemed like so many.

She was torn. She _did_ want to spend time with him. But an outdoor activity, maybe not. Ice skating, perhaps? No, not New Year's Eve. Nothing outdoorsey was to be had at midnight in the dead of winter except…

 _No_...he _couldn't_...he _wouldn't_ be the kind of guy who wanted to go to Times Square. She rounded on him, a few steps ahead of him, which almost put them eye-to-eye. She kind of liked being tall. It gave her courage.

One look at his face told her that he was _exactly_ the kind of guy who asks girls to Times Square on New Year's Eve. His eyes were a strange mix of sheepishly embarrassed mixed with the hint of a dare.

"You can't be serious!" she accused shaking her head back and forth in disbelief.

Logan's only response was a waggle of his eyebrows.

Veronica spun around and began climbing the slightly sloping stairs once again. "You're _such_ a _tourist_!" she blurted out, neither accusingly or playfully. It was just a fact. "No New Yorker goes to Times Square for New Year's Eve, Logan," she declared with conviction.

"I've always considered myself somewhat of a trendsetter," he reasoned.

Veronica had to hold back the scoff that threatened.

Logan was not to be deterred. "Come on, it'll be a perfect mix of Manhattan nostalgia magic and holiday cheese. I know how much you secretly adore cheese. You watched The Christmas Prince every day this month."

Oh, it was so like Jackass to turn her own words against her. Veronica whirled around and began climbing the stairs again. "That was a Netflix statistic. It totally wasn't me," she replied haughtily.

"Sure it wasn't," he challenged playfully, goading her.

"I admit to watching the movie a maximum of eight times, thank you very much. And I need to take advantage of it now because next year it will be ruined by some shitty sequel with wedding dress drama and a scheming distant relative vying for the throne."

Logan, took that comment as a starting point. "That's the best part about sequels. We can skip it and it'll be like it never happened!"

"So you're saying we should skip Times Square?" she reasoned with a sharp nod.

Logan shook his head. "Not happening. I am determined to keep the quintessential Manhattan holiday experience going. Antepenultimate of Christmas meet cute, check. Tree bought on a street corner from a guy from the Bronx claiming to have cut it himself in Canada, check. Carolers on the street, check. The only logical next stop is Times Square."

"If last week was your idea of a meet-cute, I can't trust anything else you've ever said to me," she informed him truthfully.

Logan didn't take the bait. "It's supposed to be warm tomorrow," he said temptingly.

"Warm to you is probably thirty-five," she prompted. "We Californians barbecue on New Year's Eve."

"The internet says it'll be a clear-skied fifty-five at midnight tomorrow. Warm air will blow in starting tomorrow morning. Besides, we live on an urban heat island, _you know_ it warms up at night," he told her seriously.

That, she had to admit, was strangely true. Except for tonight, obviously. She'd always meant to Google why that happened.

"Come on," Logan said temptingly as they rounded yet another landing.

They were almost to the fourth floor, and Veronica's mind was frantically plotting how to invite him to a night in at her place without sounding like a floozy. Not that she supposed a guy like Logan Echolls would be opposed to her being a floozy. But she wasn't ready for that. She'd just planned on a warm night at home in front of the TV.

And the truth was that Veronica had secretly always wanted to go to Times Square on New Year's Eve. She'd watched Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve with her dad every year until her best friend Lilly had taken the reins in high school. But she'd always been intrigued by the thought of it. Until she'd actually moved to New York, that is, and realized that no actual New Yorker went to Times Square for New Year's Eve. Her roommates had scoffed at the very idea.

Veronica waited until they'd reached their floor to turn and lead them to her door. She casually unlocked her door and pushed Indy inside. She didn't want any love-fest distractions between these two boys. "Well, if we _did_ go, when would we head down there?" she asked cautiously in an attempt to sound curiously non-committal.

Logan's face beamed victoriously. It was kinda sweet and cute if she did say so herself. But she wasn't ready yet.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she interrupted. "I didn't say yes yet," she told him.

The grin on his face became wider. "Not yet, but you will," he said confidently.

" _Maybe!"_ she skeptically admitted.

Logan scratched his chin, making a big show of contemplation. "One?" he asked hopefully.

"One!" Veronica scoffed. "I am not waiting in the cold for eleven hours!" she declared.

"But any later than that will already put us in the high forties," Logan informed her. "Nothing would be worse than being stuck by the M&M store."

Veronica laughed out loud at the thought. "You're right," she deadpanned, "I can't think of anything in the world worse than that."

"So I'll pick you up at one?" he asked hopefully, leaning against the wall next to her door. Then his eyes dropped to his feet as he seemed to study them carefully before risking a quick glance back at her face. She noticed his hands fiddled with the gloves he'd pulled off, swapping them from one had to the other and then squeezing them almost as if he were ringing them out rhythmically. He really was nervous. It was really quite endearing.

Veronica wasn't ready to commit to eleven hours freezing her butt off alone with him—and a million other people. Her heart was racing and there was a lump of hope in her throat, but she just wasn't ready to take the plunge. Not yet. It all seemed too soon, too fast.

"Can I get back to you?" she asked, swaying back and forth just a little as she spoke. The movement keeping her grounded, keeping her wits about her.

Logan studied her carefully. What she wouldn't give to know what he was thinking at that second. He looked like he wanted to say something for a long moment and then gave a slight shrug and moved his gaze to the gloves in his hands.

"Of course," he relented. "But don't take too long. It'll be fun. Indy has to stay home, so I can be your personal security team. No one will step anywhere near your strappy snow boots or take your coat." Then his eyes met hers again and he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

Veronica stifled a gasp at the physical contact. It was just like on Christmas. She wanted to lean into him and had to curb the urge.

"I promise," he said sincerely, his chocolate brown eyes staring right into hers. And she knew at that moment that she was going to go with him to Times Square on New Year's Eve and be a tourist. She knew she'd probably go with him anywhere.

"I believe you," Veronica said earnestly. She knew she sounded a bit hoarse and breathy so she quickly cleared her throat and took a step back, fumbling with her doorknob as she did so. "I'll get back to you soon," she assured him as she backed herself across the threshold. Logan gave her a slight wave and she somehow managed to give him a light smile as she closed the door between them.

Once the door was shut she leaned her forehead against it and took a deep breath, steadying her racing pulse and the swarm of butterflies wreaking havoc in her abdomen.

Logan Echolls. Who would have thought? These were the guys she'd steered away from in high school. Back in Neptune, California, Logan Echollses had been a dime a dozen. But this Logan Echolls seemed different.

Could he really be this sweet? Could he really be all he seemed to be? It didn't seem possible in this day and age of cheating spouses and deadbeat dads. Not that her trust issues were on trial here. In fact, she didn't feel the least bit guilty about background checking him the previous afternoon. Well, mostly. Everyone Googled their perspective dates nowadays. It was just the responsible thing to do.

That quick glance into Prying Eyez might have been a tad prematurely invasive, but it hadn't brought up anything interesting, anyway, which absolved her of any wrongdoing. And what good was paying for a subscription to a background check database if one didn't use it?

And Eli had said Logan was a stand-up guy. Which actually meant a lot more than all the technology because Eli was fiercely protective of her.

So maybe he really _could_ be that sweet. And maybe he really _could_ be all that he seemed to be. But the real question was could she take the chance? Could she open herself up to him?

Veronica honestly wasn't sure. But she supposed that there was really only one way to find out.

The Logan Echolls moony smile crossed her lips once again and she imagined spending New Year's Eve with him. Closing out this shitty year with a kiss rather than tears. She hadn't seen this coming. She hadn't seen _him_ coming. But maybe that's how things worked.

Veronica to Logan: Pick you up at 2?

* * *

There will be one more chapter - eventually :)


	4. December 31

December 31

Veronica anxiously checked her watch for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

It was finally 1:47 p.m.

Ha! Whoever said a watched pot never boiled was totally wrong. Two whole minutes had passed since she'd checked last and it was almost time to pick up Logan. Though pick up was relative since she didn't have to actually go anywhere to get him; she could essentially knock on the wall. Which again sent another wave of nerves through her spine. If anything went south with this whole date, she'd pretty much sentenced herself to be subjected to his banging doors and crappy music. And oh how she didn't want to move. But she'd not let her nerves get the better of her. She'd think positively! Logan was sweet...he was nice and thoughtful. Yet...he didn't want to spend his day freezing in Times Square. Maybe it was just his elaborate plan to be barricaded into a one-block pen with her.

No no! Don't go there, Veronica, she told the butterflies swarming her stomach. But there wasn't anything else to do. She'd taken Indy out already. She'd painstakingly applied her make-up until it was the perfect balance of just enough and not too much. She'd put on the cutest sweater that she'd splurged on a month ago from a fancy boutique in the Village that Mac had taken her to. Not that it would matter once she put her coat on. Times Square on New Year's Eve! she scoffed again, unwilling to admit that she secretly was just as excited for the ball drop as she was at the prospect of ten hours straight with Logan Echolls.

Veronica moved to sneak a glance at her watch again and then caught herself. This was getting out of hand. It was better to be a few minutes early than late, she reasoned, and she couldn't pace around her apartment one more second or she'd go mad.

That settled, Veronica donned her coat and used a static sheet to swipe at her hair once quickly before securing her warmest beanie and gloves. Then she pulled open the door with confidence she didn't feel and strode over to his apartment, rapping on the door with much more force than she'd intended.

Yikes, she winced, he's liable to think that a mugger is picking him up for a date.

The door swung open and Logan was there. Her heart warmed and instantly all the apprehension she'd been battling that day disappeared. It simply melted away. His brown eyes met hers and a small smirk appeared at the corners of his lips. Logan let out a long sigh as if he'd been worried she wouldn't come. Or at least that's what she hoped. But he quickly regained composure and leaned against the door jam, feigning ease.

"Worried I'd ditch you, Echolls?" she asked him cheekily, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to appear coy.

"Never!" he answered, but she still wasn't convinced.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes, I figured we should get a move-on since you were so worried about getting a good spot," she told him. And I was too nervous to wait any longer, she added silently.

"I'm ready," Logan shrugged, his smirk growing into a full-fledged, yet shy, smile. He backed into his apartment, holding the door open with his booted foot, enough to collect his coat from the counter of the small galley kitchen that mirrored her own next door. Logan locked the door from the inside and then let it fall closed behind him before tumbling the deadbolt into place and pocketing his key. He motioned for her to precede him down the stairs and he followed closely behind her, tugging on his grey woolen beanie and black leather gloves as they descended.

When they reached the stoop outside their building, Veronica noted with some elation, that he had been right about the temperature. It wasn't as cold as yesterday had been and most of the snow had been shoveled into the gutter.

Veronica was determined to force her stubborn nature to take a backseat to her giddy inner-child. The child who wanted to spend New Year's Eve stuck in a pen with a cute boy for the whole day...and see that ball drop. Bolstered by her thoughts, Veronica boldly looped her arm through his and pressed them down the street toward Fort Washington Avenue. The A train waited for no man!

* * *

December 31, 2:43 p.m.

Veronica glanced around the barricaded block they'd been placed into and winced slightly as she looked south again.

"Are you sure that's it?" she asked sheepishly for the second time. "Because I really think it's somewhere else."

Logan let out a long sigh. "That's it," he said with assurance.

"It can't be," she pressed. "It's supposed to be...well, huge," she told him. "It's called the Big Ball."

"I think it is huge if you're—you know—closer," he said carefully with a tip of his finger in the direction of the ball in question.

Veronica felt her face fall. He must have noticed it too.

"It's fine!" he assured her. He really didn't look upset, but she couldn't be sure.

"I'm so sorry, Logan" Veronica told him, grabbing his arm as she pleaded. "You wanted to leave earlier. To be closer," she whined, feeling horrible.

Logan shrugged and nodded. "It is what it is, Veronica. We're here...let's look at the bright side." Logan turned in a circle, scanning their surroundings. "M&M anyone?" he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Argh!" Veronica groaned aloud, burying her face in her hands.

"I tried to warn you!" He burst out matter-of-factly, laughing heartily as he peeled her hands from her face. "It's fine, Veronica. Really."

"It's not all bad right?" Veronica asked, grasping at straws.

"Not all bad at all. Now we're not stuck listening to all those pesky live concerts like we would farther south. I mean, who wanted front row tickets to P!nk?"

P!ink! Veronica made a valiant effort to keep her face even. She always felt a slight kinship with her—diminutive girls with attitude, unite!

Dammit!

Logan caught her chin and lifted it up until they were looking at one another. "Veronica, don't look so glum, if we'd ended up five blocks lower, I wouldn't have had the honor of getting frisked by Auxiliary Officer McCann on the way in here—technically it was more of a groping—which was the most action I've had in months, so...win-win?"

Veronica relented. She laughed. Hard. She didn't know him enough to know if he was being totally sarcastic...or half-serious. It intrigued her. She wanted to get to know him better. She was studying him carefully, trying to judge his level of disappointment—and determining if it was possible that their entry-frisk/pat-down really was the most action he'd had in months—when a tall, young, very bundled stranger interrupted their conversation.

"'Scuse me," he said in a heavily accented voice. "My friends and I were wondering...where is the Ball?" He was tan with a broad smile despite the fact that his forehead was crinkled in confusion.

Logan snickered, knowing the sore subject was being brought up again and then pointed up to the top of One Times Square.

"No," the young man said. "That cannot be correct. It's so...small."

Veronica died again inside. She'd never live this down if she ever even saw Logan again after tonight—which, at this point, seemed doubtful.

Logan gave her a wary glance and then clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Sorry, Man," he lamented.

"We came all the way from Monterey, Mexico to watch a marble drop!" one of the stranger's friends yelled, causing the whole group of penned people to begin cheering and laughing.

Veronica made a move to cover her face again, but Logan stopped her. He caught her arms midway and tugged them away. She'd give him that much, but she refused to meet his eyes. She could feel his hands shaking as he held her, and she took a chance and peeled her eyes from the concrete to find Logan laughing uncontrollably.

His laughter, fortunately, was contagious. After a moment she joined in too. Really what else was there to do at this point?

"So, master planner of New Year's Eve without strappy sandal or coat drama..." she asked him, her voice speculative. "What exactly is the plan for the next…" Veronica made a big show of pulling up her jacket sleeve and peeling back the top of her glove to check her watch, "oh, nine-and-a-half hours."

Logan made an equally big show of patting his pocket enticingly. Secretively. "You'll see," he told her slyly.

Veronica's curiosity got the better of her. "When?"

"Soon!" he promised. Then he pulled out his phone. "But first...pizza."

"Pizza," she laughed. "Here? Now?" At his nod, she continued. "How?"

Logan nodded his head to a pizza place located just across the intersection from their pen. He squinted, struggling to read the phone number printed across the awning. "They'll deliver!" Then he spoke into the phone. "I need an extra large pie—half cheese, half pepperoni—delivered to the guy outside the M&M Store." Logan listened for a moment and then spoke again, giving whoever was on the phone his name and number. After another moment, he said: "Perfect. I'll have cash," and then he hung up.

"An extra large?" Veronica questioned. "Who's going to eat all that pizza?"

"Our new friends from Monterey, Mexico," he informed her as if it were obvious. "Besides, it's really the box we want. The ground is freezing and we've got a long wait."

* * *

December 31, 5:23 p.m.

Logan nudged Veronica from his half of their connected cardboard pizza box.

"You okay?" he asked.

Veronica nodded and smiled up at him. "I am. This is way more fun than I thought it would be."

Logan beamed down at her and began shuffling the cards in his hands. "I'm glad," he said. "I suddenly had a flash of you yearning to be sitting at home in your warm apartment watching

Your Christmas Prince again."

Veronica narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard stare. "It's not Your Christmas Prince, it's A Christmas Prince. And I should have never told you about that," she muttered. But then she decided to play along. "But yes, I told you, I have to take advantage now before the franchise is ruined."

"Oh yes!" Logan snapped his finger as a memory came to him. "The dreaded sequel with the usurping relatives upsetting the wedding plans."

"Yes!" she used her most mock-exasperated voice. "And don't forget the coup de grâce."

"There's more?" Logan dropped his head back and laughed. "Tell me."

"Well, obviously in two years, after the royal wedding sequel, there will be the final installment where she gets pregnant."

"A royal baby," Logan deadpanned. "How the wounded hearts on their couches will swoon," he mocked.

"Yes. But," Veronica warned, her palm held out to stop him, "all is not going swimmingly for our leading couple." She shook her head.

"No!" Logan gasped.

Veronica shook her head. "No! This time the political drama will be international!" Veronica cracked at her own silliness, grinning.

"You're crazy," he told her, shaking his head and mixing the cards some more.

Veronica shook her head and gave him a nudge. "You say that now...but wait a few years. You'll see!"

Logan shrugged. "Another hand?" he asked, indicating the cards in his hands.

"Sure." Veronica took the deck from his hands and began dealing. "Your funeral."

* * *

December 31, 9:17 p.m.

"I win again!" Veronica announced, her arms raised victoriously.

A collective groan escaped from the group. "Not again!" one of their new Mexican friends lamented. Then everyone began talking within their respective groups. After their seven friends from Mexico, they'd attracted a small group in from Connecticut. Now their group was twelve. It had been like this all night...they kept coming together and moving apart. It was wonderful—like being a part of a big group of friends, but not being stuck with them.

"How can you have such fast reflexes?" Logan admired.

Veronica took a deep breath and released it as if she hadn't a care in the world. "It's a gift."

"No, seriously!" he pressed.

Veronica shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Logan didn't appear to be mollified.

"It's just Slap Jack, Logan. There isn't much to it," she told him.

And there really wasn't much to it. It had been the only game she could figure out how to explain in Spanish; they'd gotten tired of poker after the fifth hour. Good thing Logan had had three decks of cards hidden in his pocket.

"You won a few hands of Texas Hold'em," she reminded him.

"Yes, but watching how fast you are is almost hypnotizing. How did you learn to do that?"

"Maybe I have a superhuman amygdala?" Veronica shrugged. "Maybe cop for a father?" she surmised. "Maybe it comes with the territory of tracking down deadbeat dads and adulterers." Veronica wriggled under his intense scrutiny. "Or, I guess, maybe it's just me."

Logan seemed to relax a little, seemingly letting go of trying to work her out. "It's fascinating." He nudged her shoulder with his own.

Veronica leaned into him, eager for warmth. With every hour that passed, she was finding herself more and more into him—drawn to him. Without hesitation, Logan put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her in close, leaning his head to one side until it rested against the top of her head. He really was thoughtful. Her ass was only half-frozen thanks to the cardboard buffer. And he'd obviously anticipated making friends or he'd have only brought one deck of cards. She had to admit that she really was having a fantastic time. And if she tilted her head the right way and the wind blew just right, she could just make out the sound of P!nk wafting up Broadway. She closed her eyes, feeling cozy, and imagined the music wafting past them and up the street, fading into just city noises somewhere near Columbus Circle and the park.

"I always want to know what you're thinking," Logan admitted.

Veronica wanted to tell him that she often wondered the same thing about him when he got quiet. Veronica didn't dare tell him about her weird notions of musical dissipation. He'd think she was nuts. She'd let him into the strange inner workings of her mind in a few months when he wouldn't run for the hills.

"Sometimes I think the same thing about you," she admitted. It was safer than answering his question.

"Well if you want to know, just ask me," he told her.

She envied his openness. She'd always blamed her closed off nature on Neptune and the departure of her mother. But Logan clearly had similar issues, and here he was...as open as a book. Veronica decided to call his bluff.

"Okay." She tipped her head to look up at him. "What were you thinking yesterday on the stairs?"

Logan faltered, blushing, his confidence, perhaps, faltering for a moment. It made her even more curious.

"Yesterday on the stairs," he mused, looking out into the distance for a moment as if giving himself time to make something up. It's what she would have done in his place, so she really couldn't blame him. "Honestly?" Logan asked.

Veronica's breath hitched. Was he really going to tell her the truth?

"I was thinking about your smile. And wondering what you were thinking about. And I was jealous and wanted it to be me making you smile that way." He turned and looked her dead in the eye. Unabashed, unashamed. It made her shiver and she felt warmth flood her when he instinctively pulled her in tighter, probably assuming she was cold.

Holy shit.

"How do you do that?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Logan wrinkled his brow, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do what?"

"Just put yourself out there like that. How are you not guarded? Aren't you worried about what I'll think?"

"Veronica, you matched me tit-for-tat the night we met. You don't strike me as the type of person who keeps her thoughts to herself—someone who cares what people think."

Veronica was lost in his eyes. He was right. But he was also so wrong. She did come off that way, and it was mostly true. But with her innerthoughts, she was guarded. She kept them locked away, shrouded in a veil of sarcasm and snark. She kept everyone at arm's length, always ready to bolt if things got uncomfortable. She'd suspected the same was true of him when they'd met, but it wasn't true. Logan put himself out there. He allowed himself to be vulnerable in a way that Veronica couldn't even fathom. She was in awe of him and wanted to be more like him. He was so intense but in the best sense of the word. It was overwhelming. She was overwhelmed. And with that feeling came the ever-present need to deflect. Immediately.

Needing to break the silence, Veronica said the first thing that came to her mind. "I can't believe you called me an elf. And the Grinch!" she laughed. "First impressions really aren't your strong suit."

Logan's steady gaze stayed glued to hers and then he laughed and shook his head. "Sorry about that. I really wasn't myself." He paused for a moment and began fiddling with the cuff of his coat. "Or maybe I was...I get like that sometimes. It's not my favorite facet of my personality. I wish—"

"It's okay," she insisted, taking his hand. "If it makes you feel any better, I spent that evening coming up with elaborate ways to impart my revenge."

"Oh yeah," he flirted, looking straight into her soul. "And what did you come up with?"

Veronica shrugged, breaking eye contact and making sure to keep her words light. "Well, proximity definitely made things easier." Veronica made her eyes go wide. "If only we had connecting balconies," she paused for a moment, pretending to savor a memory, and then she sighed dramatically with a shake of her head. "But alas, I had to be more creative. There was the whole idea of drilling a tiny hole between our apartments and releasing a whole colony of ants." Veronica shrugged. "If I was back home in California, I'd just blend up a concoction of poison oak to rub on your doorknob." She paused for a moment more, loving messing with him. "Unfortunately, Central Park seems to not be conducive to such plans." Veronica gave an over-exaggerated shrug. "There were other, more sinister ideas...the staircase and piano wire might have been involved."

"But poor Mrs. Baxter in 4E," Logan inhaled. "You could have taken her out too."

Veronica nodded solemnly. "Yes, I thought of that. I do love her. Endangering her held me back. You should really thank her. She's the reason you're alive today."

"I'll start braiding a friendship bracelet the second I get home."

Veronica hissed through her teeth. "Yeah, maybe hold off on that...she hates your music too."

Logan chuckled. "Duly noted. Though I still feel like I'll win her over in the end."

"Is that how things work with you?" she questioned, turning to face him. "You piss everyone off and then win them over with your charm?"

Logan looked heavenward, thinking. "No!" he said with a mirthless chuckle. "Not at all. I'd say I have a talent for pissing people off and then using that intel to figure out how to piss them off even more."

That took Veronica by surprise. "Really? I don't see that at all."

"I'm glad." Logan shook his head and then looked down, suddenly studying his shoes intently. "Well, I'm trying something new, you see." He shrugged slightly, almost imperceptibly, and then continued, "For as long as I can remember I've spent so much time fighting what others wanted me to be —thought I would/should/could be—that it kind of got in the way of me finding out who I really was."

"Self-reflection is cathartic," Veronica agreed. "Living alone here has taught me that. The quiet of living alone."

Logan snickered. "I hadn't even thought of that. The music. I think I was drowning myself in noise so I didn't have to...you know, think? Feel?"

"And then I barged in and ruined your whole plan for avoidant coping. Sorry about that," she said, only half genuine.

"No, I'm glad you did. It changed...well, everything." He turned to look her in the eye. "You changed everything. You telling me like it is in a way everyone else is scared to do. And I always thought that changing myself would feel foreign or forced, but this feels like just me. The me I could have been all along. As usual, there is a great woman behind every idiot."

"You really do like John Lennon, don't you?" she asked him.

Logan's eyes twinkled as though he was impressed that she could keep up with him, and it made her feel empowered she could also.

"Not really. Like I said, my mom really was his biggest fan. If Beatles music wasn't playing in the car or house, then she wasn't home!" Logan gave her a long look. "I think the bigger question here is how do you know every John Lennon quote I throw at you?"

"I have a keen—if somewhat annoying—ability to remember everything I've ever heard," she answered. Then she signed and couldn't keep her eyes from rolling. "And my best friend Lilly went through a Beatles phase," Veronica admitted. "I've seen every documentary from start to finish.

Logan smiled at her again and her tummy got gushy...again. She didn't know how much more of his wonderfulness she could withstand without getting moony.

How much longer until midnight, Veronica?

* * *

December 31, 11:46 p.m.

"Tell me why are we standing again..." he asked, his arms firmly around her to keep them both warm. "We still have fifteen minutes."

"Because my butt is officially numb and we need to get the circulation flowing or you will have to drag me the hundred blocks home on my pizza box in a seated, cross-legged position."

"Fair point," he admitted, starting to run his hands up and down her arms.

"Are those flurries?" she asked, holding out her hand to catch a tiny snowflake with her gloved hand.

"Looks like," Logan responded. "Now we can just be grateful it's cold enough to snow and not rain."

"Good point! It's at the eleventh hour that I wish they'd filled up these pens more for warmth alone. I feel like we could fit a hundred more people in here," she said, shivering. "Hopefully the adrenaline will kick in soon."

"It's a marble falling, Veronica, I wouldn't count on it."

And then a thought occurred to Veronica. "Wait a minute! You're rich. Couldn't we have been warm in a fancy hotel room somewhere?"

"Yes, but then there would have been less forced cuddling time. The need for warmth trumps all first date jitters."

"Is that what this was—a date?" she asked, pivoting slightly to look into his eyes. They'd been together several hours...cuddling, talking. It had sure felt like a date to her, but she figured putting it all out there was a good step. She'd never been one to keep things subtle.

Logan faltered for a moment, his gaze settled on her chin for a second and then he met her eyes again. "Yes," he answered her. "At least I thought so," he clarified. "You just spent the last eight hours with me in the freezing cold waiting to watch a marble drop."

Veronica let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. They were on the same page, it seemed.

"Is that okay with you?" he asked, pausing and turning toward her, his hands finding her hips and pulling her in. "That it's a date?"

Veronica felt a smile grow on her lips. "Yeah," she told him simply. "Yeah, I like the sound of that." Veronica really wanted to kiss him...New Year's Eve tradition be damned, but something behind her seemed to have caught Logan's attention.

"I'll be right back," he told her as he strode off to one corner of the penned-in block.

Logan returned a few minutes later with glittery glasses that were in the shape of the numbers of the new year.

"I didn't know your favorite color so I went with rainbow," he explained as he handed them over.

She loved them!

Then he put on a pair of his own that were black.

"Black, huh," she admired. "How...festive."

"I think it's a requirement for a New Yorker," he explained, fidgeting with them to push them further up his nose.

"I like it. It suits you," she admitted. "And I get it. I find myself stuck in between two worlds. The New York idea that integrating color into your wardrobe means popping it out with dark grey, and California — the land of flip flops, jean shorts, and hoodies."

"I haven't been to California in ages. Not since…" Logan trailed off, and Veronica knew that he was thinking about his mom. She understood. California reminded her of her dad.

Logan stared at her intently for a moment and then blinked and nodded. "Maybe next year for New Year's Eve we could be warm on a beach with champagne rather than freezing our asses off with the marble." Logan nodded his head in the direction of the Ball.

"Sure!" she sputtered, doing her best to sound cool. "Of course." She hoped she didn't sound desperate. Next year?

After a moment she continued. "It'd be nice to have a reason to go back. Together." Veronica hadn't realized how much she'd wanted to go back to California. The thought had given her so much anxiety, but with Logan, it seemed doable. "I, for one, vote for a summer visit though," she told him. "New York winters are the worst, but the thought of a July day without stickiness and afternoon thunderstorms..." Veronica sighed deeply. "That's living!"

"Fourth of July, too," Logan told her firmly. "I'm in." Then he looked southward toward the lights of Times Square.

Veronica couldn't believe they were making plans for the coming year. It all seemed too good to be true. Had she really just met him two weeks ago? The thought should frighten her. She should feel stifled and tied down. But she didn't. It was odd. And it was wonderful.

Could this really be happening? Did he feel the connection that she was feeling? Could things really, for once in her life, just be this easy? She'd never even dared to hope it was possible. She was from Neptune. Nothing was ever what it seemed. But Logan wasn't from Neptune, and so far almost everything with him had been what it seemed.

"You ready?" he asked her, his eyes bright with excitement.

Veronica, momentarily stuck in her own head, was about to question him when she heard shouting: the sound of hundreds of thousands of people shouting in unison. They were counting down.

"Nine...eight…"

She looked around and saw everyone together. The guys from Mexico and the new friends from Connecticut.

The adrenaline kicked in; suddenly she wasn't cold anymore.

"Seven...six," she looked to Logan.

He was looking back and forth between her and the Marble, his face beaming.

"Five…" he shouted. "Four..."

Her heart soared right along with them.

"Three…"

And right then and there she decided she could be that girl.

"Two…"

She could be the kind of girl that these things happened to—with Logan—if she let herself be.

And she screamed along right with Logan.

"One! Happy New Year!"

Explosions sounded and confetti filled the sky along with streamers and snowflakes and goodness knew what else.

And suddenly everyone around them was kissing. Kissing one another and kissing strangers. Veronica had forgotten about the kissing.

In a whirl of arms and cheers, she was spun around pulled into the arms of all her new friends as they all pulled her into embrace after embrace, laying kisses on her head and cheeks. Momentarily thrown off, Veronica stole a glance at Logan who seemed thoroughly amused by the scene until he was half-tackled by one of the guys in the group. Veronica found herself laughing along with everyone. They cheered and laughed and jumped in the chaos.

Strong arms pulled her from behind. She turned, knowing instinctively that they were Logan's arms. His hands went to her waist as though as though was the most natural thing in the world. Because maybe it was.

"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you," he whispered. Somehow she heard his hushed words over the din and did as she was told. And despite the layers between them, electricity struck Veronica's body as Logan's fingers dug into her slightly as he brought her to him, lowering his head until their lips met.

His lips were soft at first, cautious. But after the initial contact, he tilted his head to the side and took more of her. The kiss deepened. Veronica gasped slightly, which only intensified the connection between them, giving Logan better access to her mouth as his tongue explored her. And then there were more fireworks, explosions and more confetti. She couldn't understand it, but she felt it within and all around her. Someone bumped them hard from behind, knocking them off balance, and Logan pulled away, watching her eyes carefully to make sure she was okay.

Veronica was left breathless and dazed, staring up into his eyes. But then the most amazing thing happened. She didn't panic. She didn't run. She didn't even have to fight the urge to flee. Instead, she leaned in and initiated a kiss, taking the lead as she explored Logan's mouth with her own. His arms left her hips and went around her, pulling her in until their bodies were flush.

They stayed that way for an indeterminable amount of time until the need for oxygen was more overwhelming than the feeling of euphoria from the kiss. She pulled her mouth from Logan's, but she didn't pull away from him, preferring to stay in the circle of his arms for one moment more before reality kicked in.

When she opened her eyes again, she found him studying her. He looked breathless himself and uncharacteristically quiet.

"I knew it would be like that," he finally said. "You and me," he finished. "I don't know how, but I knew."

Veronica wanted to mention that only he would use a John Lennon quote before he kissed her, but she was also overwhelmed and simply nodded.

A moment later, she remembered where they were. "Where are your glasses?" she laughed.

"No idea," Logan answered, chuckling. "Probably wherever yours are," he told her.

Veronica's hand went to her bare face and she giggled.

"Wow," she breathed out after another moment.

"Yeah," he agreed.

Then they were bumped hard again from behind Logan and he tightened his grip on her to steady them both. Logan let her go slightly and then turned to see the crowd of people filing by, not even noticing them stopped in the middle. Everyone was walking north.

"Where did all the barricades go?" Veronica asked, finally taking in their surroundings.

"They're just gone," he said, looking around. "Maybe they take them down while we're all busy counting down."

"Or kissing," she suggested, pretty sure the city could have come down around them and she wouldn't have noticed.

"Manhattan really does never cease to amaze, does it?" he asked.

Veronica shook her head, thinking to how much her life had changed since she'd moved there. She'd become a new person, maybe even a new person who could learn to trust and love.

Logan bent down and picked up their two sets of glasses that were amazingly intact and handed her the rainbow pair.

Veronica smiled. "Maybe we could put them on next year's tree," she suggested. She was surprised at how into their unconventionally decorated tree she'd become. Maybe it was just the thought of a future with Logan...or the fact that a future with Logan didn't give her palpitations as it had in the past.

Veronica had never put much stock in New Year's Eve. New beginnings. But here she was, starting a new year. And if tonight was any indication, it would be an adventure.

"I'd like that," he responded, taking her hand in his as they slipped into the crowd, becoming just two more members of the drove heading north under the cover of still-falling confetti and snow flurries.


End file.
